The rough hands of the guards didn’t stop at the stable doors. They shoved me inside with enough force that I stumbled into a pile of damp straw, my knees scraping against the unforgiving stone floor. The smell hit me instantly—manure, decay, and the sharp, musky scent of unwashed wolves. This wasn't just a stable; it was a prison.
"Strip," the lead guard barked. He was a Gamma I used to play tag with as a pup. Now, he wouldn't even look me in the eye.
"Please," I whispered, clutching my ruined blouse. "I'm freezing."
"Alpha's orders. No rank, no clothes of the pack." He threw a rough, scratchy bundle at my feet. "Put that on."
Shame burned hotter than the cold wind slicing through the slats in the wood. With trembling fingers, I shed the last remnants of my dignity—the clothes I had worn while saving lives in the Royal Stronghold—and pulled on the burlap sack. It was itchy and smelled of mold, hanging loosely off my frame like a shroud.
"Get to work," the guard spat, pointing to the stalls. "The Omegas have the night off. You're doing the cleaning."
They slammed the heavy wooden doors, plunging me into semi-darkness. For hours, I shoveled. My hands, the hands that had stitched wounds with magic and mixed delicate serums, were now gripping a splintered shovel. Blisters formed within the first hour. By the third, they had popped, weeping clear fluid that mixed with the filth of the stables. Every movement sent a jolt of agony up my arms, threatening the dexterity I needed to ever recreate the cure. I looked at my shaking, raw palms and sobbed silently. The cure was gone. My mate was gone. And I was drowning in shit.
The dinner bell rang, a hollow sound that usually meant warmth and community. For me, it meant service.
A younger Omega unlocked the door, her eyes wide with pity she was too afraid to voice. "Alpha wants you in the dining hall," she murmured. "To serve."
Walking into the pack house in a burlap sack while everyone else wore clean clothes was a humiliation designed to break me. The air was thick with the smell of roasted venison and rosemary, but the moment I entered, silence fell like a guillotine. Greyson sat at the head of the table, looking regal and terrifying. Francesca was plastered to his side, feeding him grapes like a caricature of a queen.
"Ah, our new Omega has arrived," Francesca announced, her voice pitching high and sweet. "Bring the wine, girl. And don't spill it on the Alpha."
I gritted my teeth, taking the heavy pitcher. My damaged hands throbbed as I moved around the table. Pack members—people I grew up with—jeered as I passed. Some spat on the floor near my bare feet.
"Traitor," someone whispered.
"Whore," another hissed.
I reached the head of the table, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. As I poured wine into Greyson’s goblet, I dared to look at him. His eyes were hard, devoid of the warmth that used to make my toes curl. He didn't even acknowledge me.
Francesca stood up then, clinking her fork against her glass. "Attention, everyone! Greyson and I have wonderful news."
The room went quiet. She placed a hand over her flat stomach, beaming with a triumph that made my stomach turn.
"I am carrying the late Alpha's heir," she declared. "A pup to lead us all."
A roar of approval went up from the pack. Wolves howled and banged their fists on the tables. Greyson stood, his chest puffing out with pride—a false pride built on a lie. He wrapped an arm around her waist, looking at her with a reverence that shattered what was left of my heart.
"To the future of the Silver Moon Pack!" Greyson roared. Then, his gaze snapped to me. "Kneel, Omega. Congratulate your Luna."
I froze. My wolf, Selene, bristled under my skin. *Lies,* she growled. *There is no second heartbeat. No scent of milk or life. It is a void.*
"No," I whispered.
The celebration died instantly. Greyson’s expression darkened. "What did you say?"
"I said no," I said, my voice shaking but loud enough to carry. "She isn't pregnant, Greyson. There is no pup scent. It's a trick!"
Francesca gasped, burying her face in Greyson’s neck. "She's cursing the baby, Grey! She wants it to die like your brother!"
"Silence!" Greyson bellowed. The Alpha command hit me like a physical weight, a sledgehammer to the skull.
"**KNEEL!**"
My body betrayed me. My knees slammed into the hardwood floor with a sickening crack. I couldn't breathe; the pressure of his aura was crushing my lungs, forcing my forehead down until it touched the cold wood.
"You will respect the mother of my nephew," Greyson snarled, his voice vibrating through the floorboards. "Get her out of here. Before I kill her myself."
Dragged back to the stables, I was thrown into the straw, gasping for air as the Alpha command slowly released its grip. I curled into a ball, shivering violently.
*Helena,* Selene’s voice cut through the haze of pain. It was urgent, sharp. *Listen.*
I squeezed my eyes shut, focusing. Through the thin walls of the stable, past the wind, I felt it. A dark, oily sensation radiating from the main house. It was coming from the Luna’s suite—Francesca’s room.
*Dark magic,* Selene hissed. *She is not sleeping. She is communing. I hear the whispers of the Rogues.*
Panic spiked in my chest. She was contacting them now. She was planning the next phase of whatever hell she had unleashed on us. I had to tell him. Even if he hated me, he was still the Alpha. He had to know his pack was compromised.
I closed my eyes and reached for the bond, that frayed, burnt thread that still connected our souls.
*Greyson,* I projected, pouring all my desperation into the mental link. *Please, listen. Francesca is talking to Rogues right now. I can feel the magic—*
It was like running full speed into a brick wall.
He slammed the link shut. He didn't just ignore me; he actively blocked me with a violent mental shove. The backlash was instantaneous. A blinding white light exploded behind my eyes, searing through my skull like a hot poker.
I screamed, clutching my head as bile rose in my throat. I retched into the straw, my body convulsion with the shock of the rejection. He had walled me out completely. I was alone in the dark, with the taste of vomit in my mouth and the terrifying realization that the enemy was already inside the gates, sleeping in the Alpha's bed.
